


In The Hands Of A Demon

by TimeLordOfGallifrey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Demons, Gen, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Protective!Dean, Kidnapped Sam, Kidnapping, Teenchesters, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeLordOfGallifrey/pseuds/TimeLordOfGallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>16 year old Sam is kidnapped by a demon under orders from an enemy of Azazel out for Winchester blood, Dean and John have to find him. The enemy of Azazel wants the special children dead before they realise who they are, but to do so he has to go through the Winchesters first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scalding hot water exploded from the dodgy shower head which made Sam, the younger Winchester, instinctively jump back. He fiddled with the temperature control for a few seconds until he found a relatively comfortable temperature. He stood submerged in the spray of hot water for a few minutes longer as the water glued his long floppy brown hair to his face. He brought a hand up to brush it out of his closed eye when, all of a sudden, the water started to splutter out of the shower head until it eventually stopped. Sam gave up on his shower and made sure to turn the water off, even though it appeared to have stopped, just in case it decided to turn on again and flood the whole room while he slept. He wrapped a clean white towel around his waist and quickly dried himself off, shivering slightly as the air was much cooler now he was out of the shower. He had barely enough time to pull on his blue underwear and jeans before he was thrown through the locked bathroom door and into the wall at the far end of the motel room. He looked around wildly but couldn't see his attacker. His head throbbed as he lunged towards the silver knife that his big brother Dean kept under his pillow but before he could reach it something cold grabbed his ankles and he flew across the room, hitting another musty yellow wall. A small trickle of warm blood matted his wet hair at the back of his head and he slowly stood up. For a short moment all was calm. The desk suddenly shot through the air, dropping his laptop on the floor with a clatter, and hit Sam square on the forehead. His vision began to fail him as he collapsed onto the rough grey carpet and slid into unconsciousness.

Sam opened his eyes groggily. Everything was dark. “D...Dean?” he called out but no answer came. He slowly became aware of the pain in his neck and head. His elongated body had been squashed into a space that was far too small. Shit, where was he? He tried to move his arms only to discover that they had been secured behind his back with chunky iron cuffs, a thick iron chain linked the cuffs on his ankles to the cuffs on his wrists. Even if he had a knife he wouldn't have been able to cut through iron. He felt the slow rumble of a car's engine and tried to move his head to see if he could get a better look at where he was. He instantly regretted doing so as he ended up getting his neck into an even more uncomfortable position. Crap crap crap. This was not good. How had he been caught off guard like that? Dean was going to give him hell for this . . . and dad, if he ever came back from his hunt.

The engine stopped.

Sam froze. Someone, or something had stepped out of the car. He heard the door slam shut and the tyres rise up a little as the weight inside the car decreased. His breathing grew rapid and slightly panicked. “Calm down Sam.” he muttered to himself “This isn't going to help you.”

The cramped boot of the rusty car was yanked open and a bunch of scrunched up rags were stuffed into his mouth. Bright sunlight blinded his vision, so much so that he couldn't see any more than the silhouette of his attacker. He could tell that it was a man, unless it was a ridiculously oversized woman. and they were – by the looks of it – very strong. A thick strip of black cloth was tied over his eyes, obstructing his vision, and a strip of thick tape was roughly stuck over the rags in his mouth. He wanted to fight back but he could hardly move in the cramped space, even without the shackles restraining his movement. Rough hands grabbed him and he was hauled out of the car and thrown onto the muddy ground. A second pair of hands joined the first. and together they dragged the helpless form of little Sam Winchester through the dirt and into a long abandoned warehouse. He deliberately tried to drag his feet through the soft dirt in the hope that he would either manage to leave a trail to mark where he was if Dean ever found him, or that his feet would catch on something, anything, that could help him.

“Naughty naughty.” a voice hissed into his ear and his elephant feet were hoisted up off the ground by a third pair of hands, these were smaller but still clearly male. How many people were there? This was getting out of hand. He kicked both his feet backwards into something that felt like a very toned torso and smirked inside upon hearing an annoyed grunt. His glee was short lived. Someone, or something, grabbed his – now dry – mop of hair and yanked his head backwards. “You'll only make things worse for yourself. Sammy.”

Sam grunted in frustration, no one called him Sammy but Dean. The strip of thick grey tape made him feel even more helpless than he already was. He noticed that the sound of their footsteps had changed, they had gone from a muffled tread along an old decaying carpet, to a hard strike which echoed around the large room.

All at once the many hands dropped him onto a hard concrete floor and the same force as before sent him skidding across the floor and into a brick wall. His head collided with the brick and he swam into unconsciousness

When he woke he found himself slumped against a cold wall, “Dean...?” his weak voice echoed around the large room. His vision slowly cleared and he saw the faint flicker of half a dozen candles in brackets lining the walls behind and to the side of him. Wind whistled through the rafters and sent a shiver down his spine, it felt like the darkness was closing in on him. His feet were raw and studded with small stones. His toes and the hem of his jeans were caked with mud.

“Big brother's not here right now.” a voice said from the shadows. He tried to see but the light from the candles only stretched so far.

“What do you want from me?” he asked trying his best to keep his voice steady, this wasn't the first time he'd been kidnapped.

“You know something, you hunters really do get in the way.”

“That's what we do.” he grumbled under his breath.

“But I really think it's high time you leave us in peace. And I know that the only way that'll happen is –”

“To kill us all.” Sam said cutting him off, “Of course you'd see that as the only option.” he was trying to sound strong, trying to sound like Dean.

“You certainly do live up to your reputation as the smartest Winchester.”

He could sense it grinning. “Don't worry Sammy. You're not going to die just yet. You're here as...well, I think you already know.”

Sam wanted desperately to kill it. He tried to get up but found himself still chained up and now the chain, that connected his wrists to his ankles, was attached to the wall as well, leaving him hardly any room to move. He grunted and pulled at the chains, the sound of the metal rattling bounced around the room.

“You know it's futile.” the voice moved closer, carried by light footsteps. “But,” the blade of a knife caught the light, “Doesn't mean we can't have a little fun first.” soon the voice had a body. A tall man emerged, he was strongly built, his young face bore traces of stubble, his eyes were black.

“Y-you're a...”

“Demon, yes, you are quick on the uptake.” he stepped closer to Sam, his agonisingly slow footsteps made Sam's whole body tense. He spun the knife in his fingers and crouched down in front of Sam who shrunk back, fear visible on his young face. The demon grinned and jabbed the tip of the knife into the muscle above his heart. The knife was dragged right across Sam's chest, he clenched his teeth and fists until his knuckles were white, he gasped in pain. The demon grinned broadly and laughed as he made a second cut parallel to the first.

A woman entered to large room carrying an oil lamp, it illuminated the warehouse and the chains that dangled threateningly from the high ceiling, ropes swung from the rafters as if they were just waiting for their next victim. Sam wondered how many people had died here, it had the look of somewhere one would go to die. Like a hangman's forest. The woman stepped into the glow of the candle light and smiled wickedly.

“Hello Winchester.” he glared at her but said nothing, blood trickled down his bare chest. Her grin widened and a second set of talon like teeth emerged, “We're not just a myth you know.” she hissed with a vicious look in her cold grey eyes. Sam screamed as her fangs dug deep into his neck, making sure not to cut any arteries.

The demon stood back with his arms folded across his chest “Don't kill him yet.”

The vampire smiled and licked the blood from his neck, he flinched and tried to edge away but the chains kept him where he was.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean trudged back into the motel room carrying a six pack of beers. “Hey Sammy.” he called, “Brought you a beer.” he flicked the frail overhead light on. “Sam?” he saw the overturned table and the laptop on the floor. The room was a mess. He chucked the beers onto Sam's empty bed and ran into the bathroom looking for Sam but he saw no one. “Dammit Sammy where the hell are you?” He brought out his gun and his phone and quickly speed-dialled Sam's number and looked about franticly. Sam's phone buzzed from under his bed. “Crap.” Dean muttered and fished it out. Something was definitely wrong. He could feel it. Where ever Sam was he was in trouble. The splintered remains of the bathroom door creaked back and forth on it's hinges. He went over to the table and looked closely, specks of blood dotted the edge. “No... no. Sammy!” he yelled, but it was futile. His little Sammy wasn't here. Dammit. . . what had that kid gotten himself into now? He picked up Sam's laptop and flipped it right way up. Nothing. The screen was blank and a long thin crack ran jaggedly from one corner to another. The window above Sam's bed stood ajar and the covers were all bunched up at the head of the bed. It looked like he had been dragged out. He couldn't blame whatever it was for not being able to lift him, that kid weighed a lot for a sixteen year old, even if he was a giant.

Within seconds Dean had dialled his father's number, he franticly paced the room as he waited for the old guy to pick up. “Come on, come on. . . pick up you son of a bitch. . .” he muttered angrily. Nothing. It went straight to the answering machine. “Dad, please you gotta call me back, Sammy's gone.” he took a few deep breaths, shut off the call and threw the phone at the wall.

Dean sat in the Impala, the waxing moon shone down weakly and cast a soft white glow into the car. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the wheel. If only Sam was here, he'd know where to look in order to find himself, but Sam wasn't there. And Dean was on his own. He glanced sadly at the empty seats. “I'll find you Sam, I promise.” Dean had been out hustling pool and flirting with hot bartenders for hours, Sam could be well on his way to the other side of the country by now. He walked back into the motel room feeling a little more calm and a little less agitated. There was no way he could find Sam if he was acting like a frantic mother who's late for the school run. He stepped over the debris and splinters of the plywood door and stepped onto the black tiled floor of the bathroom. Sam's shirt and belt sad on top of his trainers and socks. It looked to Dean as though Sam had been jumped whilst getting dressed, awkward situation there... He looked closely at the window ledge, the salt line was broken. Splashes of water had sprayed onto the ledge and broken the line. “Dammit Sam, take more care when you shower. And when I find you, you had better be wearing boxers. I ain't dragging your naked ass back here.”

His nose pricked up at the smell of sulphur by the bed. Demons. A demon had almost certainly been here. He checked his watch, who knew how long Sam had been gone for. Dean ran his hand through his sticky up hair and climbed over Sam's messy bed and out the window. They probably wouldn't have wanted to drag Sam very far in fear of being seen. So they must have had a car. “Think Dean, what would you do if you were lugging him out the window?” Dean gasped, the Land-rover that had been parked two spaces down from the Impala. Feeling slightly smug about his 'moment of genius', he vaulted back through the window and fished out his laptop. He quickly closed the porn window and began hacking into the traffic cameras that he knew sat on the street corner at either and and were the same all the way down the main road. It took him a while and two cups of coffee before he managed to find the correct cameras. There was an image of the army green Land-rover driving Northwards but when he flicked to the picture at the next traffic camera it was gone. The car must have turned off at some point down the road. The loud ringing of his phone made him jump as the noise pierced the silent air. The display read “Dad”

“Finally!” Dean scrambled for the phone and answered, lying lengthways across two beds, “Dad!”

“Dean?” his fathers confused voice came through, “I thought I'd told you not to call unless it was an emergency.”

“Yes sir. But it is. Sam. He's gone.”

“Gone? Sam's in a huff gone or taken gone?”

“Taken. The place was a mess when I got back.”

“I'll be there in two hours, maybe less.”

The line went dead.

An hour and thirty minutes later John Winchester burst through the door.

“Came as fast as I could.” he panted

“Wendigo dealt with?”

“Dead as a doornail. Now tell me everything.” Dean quickly recounted to his dad what he had found and his current deductions, “Well we follow the road, find a turn off.” They grabbed all the weapons they could carry, including a machete and a silver knife. They jumped into John's pick-up truck and headed off down the same road in under five minutes.

Dean kept watching for small roads as they drove, every now and then he glanced at his dad. He looked so calm, as if it didn't bother him at all, but Dean didn't question him. The moon hung mockingly in the sky among a sea of diamonds. John glanced at his son when he wasn't looking. It hurt him to see Dean so nervous and worried, it hurt even more to not know where Sam was or if he was even alive. If he had been taken by a demon who knew what damage it could be inflicting on him. John remained calm on the outside and kept driving. They passed the second traffic camera.

“Wait!” Dean exclaimed noticing the camera, “Pull over. We've missed it. He would have turned off before this camera.”

“You're right.” John observed and spun the truck around in a three point turn. They drove back slower this time, once again they almost missed the turn off. He slammed on the brakes and almost sent Dean flying into the dash, thankfully he was wearing his seatbelt.

“Whoa dad!”

“There.” he indicated towards a tiny little road, only just big enough for a car to pass down, Tall trees and thick thorn bushes grew by the track. John slowly wheeled the car down the track, it was very rocky and they were shaken about in their seats as they rumbled down the road. Neither said anything until they reached a relatively small clearing, a carpet of decaying leaves and dead pine needles covered the ground. They both climbed out of the car and flicked their torches on. Small beams of light swept over the leaves as they searched for clues, anything that could lead to Sam. A small gust of wind around their ankles blew some leaves across the clearing, conveniently revealing a faint set of tyre tracks leading left down and even narrower track.

“The truck won't fit down there.” John remarked, “Get the weapons, we go in on foot.”

“Yes sir.” Dean went into the car and picked up the two duffel bags that contained an array of weapons and ammo.

Keeping the torch beams ahead of them they cautiously crept through the woods, all of a sudden the tyre tracks stopped. Dean nodded to his father and they both scoured the surrounding area for any trace.

“Dean.” John whispered from his side of the path. Dean ran over to him stumbling once, he covered it up as a jump and John pretended not to notice. It was clear that Dean was really worried for Sam, ever since the fire Dean had cared more for Sam than anything else in the world.

A rust bucket of a car lay in a ditch. The army green paint was fading and covered in scratches and rust that Dean hadn't noticed beforehand. The wing mirror was cracked and the windows were non existent, only their shattered remains lined the edges of the frame like a serrated glass knife. There were no plates to be seen.

“Did they steal this from a scrap yard of something?” Dean commented.

John shook his head in response, equally disgusted by the car. Like father like son, they shared a taste for cars. He crept round the side, holding his torch between his teeth and a gun with iron rounds in one hand. He and Dean prised open the trunk of the car and shone the torchlight into the small space.

“If Sammy was in here it would have been a hell of a tight fit.” humour was the only way Dean could stop himself from having a breakdown there and then. Sam had been in the hands of monsters before, but not like this. He gasped as the torchlight slid over a patch of almost dry blood. Sam's. He ran back up onto the path and started searching for any sign that Sam had gone down that road and not into the forest, if he had it would be a lot harder to find him.

John knelt down a metre or so ahead of him, he inspected the ground. Leaves were all over the place covering any possible trail. The small breeze picked up slightly and whooshed through a bramble bush. John looked up at the bush and in the moonlight he noticed something hanging off one of the thorns. A small rag. “Dean, get over here.”

“What is it?” he asked doing as he was told.

“You recognise this?” John asked holding up the small scrap of material.

Dean held it tentatively in his hand as if he was scared he would break the only trace of his brother. “Yeah...” he uttered in a voice barely above a whisper. It was a fragment of one of Sam's joggers. He turned the material over in his hand, he must have been getting ready to go to bed. He hadn't worn pyjamas since he was a kid, now he just flung on whatever was comfy and warm. There were still a few weeks before Sam had to go back to school. Perfect time to take him, no one other than Dean and whomever Dean chose to tell would know that Sam was gone. “They're from his pants.” At least he now knew that Sam wasn't going to be stark naked when they found him, “So they must have gone this way.” he indicated forwards.

John nodded and they began to follow the almost invisible trail, torches pointing ahead and guns at the ready. Something wasn't right, it seemed too easy. The car, the blood, the tyre tracks, the clothes. Hell, even the breeze seemed wrong. But he said nothing, he didn't care if it was a trap. He wasn't going to leave Sam in there, where ever 'there' was.

After about ten minutes of creeping through the woods they reached a wider gravel road, it headed towards a big chain link fence. John and Dean slowly crept up to it, sticking to the shadows.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Hope you liked it!   
> Thanks for reading this far, I know a lot of people quit after chapter one (for various reasons) but thanks anyway.  
> Until the next time!


	3. Chapter 3

 Sam yelled as the vampire bit into his forearm and savoured the taste of his blood, she licked her lips, “Delicious.” she said as the third man walked into the room. It was Dean.

“Dean!” Sam breathed a sigh of relief, but something was wrong. He wasn't attacking the vampire or the demon, “Dean?”

Fake Dean tipped his head back and laughed. “You'll never look at him, or should I say me, the same way again.” he held his hands behind his back, hiding something there.

“What... what's that?” Sam asked getting worried. His hair was plastered to his face and he was drenched in blood and sweat even though the warehouse was freezing cold. Holes and cuts pockmarked his skin and hurt every time he tried to move. The other Dean laughed and revealed a long iron rod, he turned it so the fat end pointed towards Sam's eye. It was glowing white hot. There was a contained fire in the next room where plenty more pokers were heating up, waiting to come into contact with the boy's skin. The fake Dean laughed as he saw the look of utter terror on the young boy's face. His fearless persona had broken, he was a scared kid. The poker lingered near his eye and fake Dean laughed, the demon and the vampire watched on in glee, “How...” he took a few shaky breaths to try and steady his voice, “How are you working together?” he asked.

“Well I'd have thought it would be obvious wouldn't it? You disappoint me Sammy. We're all here for the same reason. One goal. The end of the Winchesters.”

Sam scowled and gave the demon a look of pure hatred, “You'll never... aargh!” he yelled and tried so hard to jerk back from the poker but the chains were too tight. The other Dean took the poker away after a few seconds of pain, “You'll never manage.” Sam wheezed through gritted teeth, “You wont.” a sharp pain spread across his face as the back to the vampire's hand collided with his cheek and his head was jerked to the side.

“Oh but we will Sammy.” fake Dean taunted and teased him by bringing the burning hot poker close to his skin and then taking it away just as it was about to burn him. Sam breathed out and looked up. Fake Dean used the moments distraction and burned a Zoroastrian symbol onto Sam's chest on the opposite side of his body to his heart. His screams filled the large room.

“I must admit, it'd be a shame to kill you.” fake Dean said and Sam gave him a quizzical, if contorted, look. “I do love to hear you scream” he took a few steps back, “He's all yours” he said to the demon who grinned a devilish grin and picked up a scalpel.

Screams of pain reverberated through the warehouse.

Dean vaulted the fence and landed on his feet, always watching for signs of danger. His ear pricked up at the sound of screaming, “Sam!” he started to run towards the big grey building, it looked like someone had just dumped a block of concrete in the middle of the woods.

John caught his arm. “Wait.”

“Wait?! No way, Sam's in there. He's in pain!”

“I know, but think about it. There is nothing else this can be except for a trap.”

“I don't care.” he said with a fierce determination, “We are not abandoning him.”

“Of course not. But we can't afford to get caught.”

They darted across the open ground from the fence to the giant concrete block with windows and a door. John kept watch on their too quiet surroundings whilst Dean picked the lock with Sam's lock-picking kit. They slipped in through the peeling red door without making a sound and it swung shut behind them. Dean hastily scanned for EMF but nothing, nothing so far. They crept through the silent corridors, the light patter of their feet was accompanied by their sharp and heavy breaths. The floor was carpeted in a rough black material. A set of heavy looking metal doors lay at the end of the corridor. Sam's screams vibrated through them. John ignored what he had said beforehand and shoved the doors open brandishing a gun and a silver knife. Dean ran in after him and froze when he saw himself holding a hot poker mere centimetres from Sam's eye. The kid looked as though he could barely hold onto consciousness any longer.

“Dad... Dean...” he whispered weakly.

Dean wanted to murder everything that had ever hurt his brother but at the same time seeing Sam to broken and bloody he just wanted to break down and cry. But he knew he had to stay strong, not for himself but for Sam. The demon stood up, a few splatters of Sam's blood decorated his white shirt.

“As you so cunningly figured out, we have your boy here.” he said to John, “Took you a bit longer than I thought, hours in fact. We had such fun while you were away didn't we Sam?” he kicked Sam hard in the ribs, he groaned and grunted weakly.

“Let him go before I send you all right back to hell.” John threatened.

“Tempting, but no. We can come up with a better deal don't you think?”

The demon's calmness made Dean want to punch its brains out.

“You see, I already know what you'll say yes to.”

“Oh and what's that?”

“I'll unchain the kid. I wont hurt him. As long as you give yourself up.”

“No dad! There has to be another way!” Dean interjected.

“Dean.” his father said in a warning tone then focused his attention on the demon, “Alright. But first you let Sam go.”

“Give me your weapons.” the demon said.

John dropped his pack, gun and machete, and kicked them over to the wall. “Now Sam.” the demon clicked it's fingers and the manacles vanished, Sam slumped to the floor and Dean ran over to him. He reached out to help Sam when the other version of himself punched him in the jaw with incredible force and sent him flying into the wall.

“You bastard.” John swung a punch and hit the demon square on the jaw. It retaliated by sending him flying into the wall and landing in a heap next to the real Dean. Sam started to slowly drag himself towards his dad's discarded bag of weapons. Fake Dean and the demon were distracted as they approached Dean and John ready to kill them. The vampire wasn't watching Sam, she was too busy watching the others. He grabbed his father's bag and pulled an exorcism, that had been scrawled on a scrap of paper, out of the journal and out of the bag. He began to mutter the words, using all his strength to just stay conscious.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas.” he began when a high heeled boot stood on his almost shredded back. He roared and he rolled onto his front. He tried to reach a weapon, any kind, but couldn't.

“Ooh Sammy boy, saying things we shouldn't are we?” Sam groaned as the demon taunted him, “Maybe I will leave your little boy alive after al John, he can be Mindy's little plaything.” he said referring to the vampire girl. “You and your big kid will be dead soon though.”

Sam managed to slip the exorcism into his pocket before Mindy the vampire hauled him up onto a chair. She sat straddled across him and bit into his shoulder receiving a moan and a grunt from him before grabbing his cheeks with one hand and kissing him. Sam could taste his own blood on her lips and tried to push her off but his arms failed him. Instead he slumped forwards sending her falling onto the floor, a millisecond later his unconscious body flopped down on top of her legs. She yelped in surprise but was uninjured.

Using Sam's floppy attack as a distraction Dean pulled a silver knife out of his coat pocket and ran at the fake one. It realised what was happening too late. Dean stabbed the silver knife into his heart with a mad fury, the shifter lay still. No one hurt his brother, not on his watch. John stood up and rugby tackled the demon into the wall just as it was about to send Dean flying. He ran over to Sam and stood on Mindy's arm as he grabbed the exorcism from his pocket.

“Dad!” Dean called out. “How do you gank a vamp?”

“Beheading!” John yelled back ducking under a punch, he grabbed the demons neck and twisted it until he heard a satisfying click. It didn't work.

“Yes sir!” Dean grabbed John's machete from the pile of the discarded weapons, “Beheading, seriously...?” he brought the blade down on the vampire's neck before she had the chance to fight back. It sliced through quickly and he frowned in disgust. He continued to read the exorcism and the demon who was fighting his father started becoming weaker. It lunged towards him. Suddenly black smoke erupted from it's mouth with a shrill scream and sank through the floorboards. It's meatsuit slumped to the floor with a broken neck. Both John and Dean ran over to Sam.

“Sammy! Come one wake up kiddo!” Dean called out desperately as John lifted him up off the body of the decapitated vampire and towards the door.

By the time they reached John's pick-up truck both he and Dean were getting very worried, Sam still hadn't woken up. His heartbeat was weak but at least it was still there.

“We've gotta get him to the hospital!” Dean said as he climbed into the passenger seat.

“No.” his dad replied.

“No?”

“How the hell do we explain the wounds?”

Dean realised he was right, “Where do we take him then?”

“I have an old friend who owes me a few favours. He's a doctor.”

“Yes sir.” Dean replied and John pushed his foot down on the accelerator and sped down the empty streets towards the doctor's house.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam woke up on a soft bed aching all over. He tried to turn his head but found that he could hardly move it at all. “Dean?” he whispered “Am I dead?” he muttered to himself. Dean woke up at the sound of Sam's voice, he had been sleeping on the bed next to Sam.

“Sammy!” he said sitting up, “You're totally and 100% alive!”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, “What happened? Where am I? How long was I out?” he asked, he remembered being snogged by Mindy then everything had gone fuzzy and then black.

“How much do you remember?”

“Remember, getting jumped, getting t...” he breathed “tortured, then you and dad came, th-then... a vampire tried to eat my face. That's all.”

He pulled up a chair by Sam's bed and ran his hand through Sam's hair, he noticed how Sam hadn't mentioned the shifter yet, “Well I finished your exorcism, beheaded your girlfriend and stabbed myself.”

“She tried to eat my face.”

“Kissing, aggressive kissing.”

Sam sighed “You stabbed yourself?” he reverted back to the main topic.

“Not me exactly, it was a shifter.”

“Oh...”

There was a knock at the door and John walked in with the doctor, “Sam.” his face lit up “You're awake.”

“Hey dad.” he noticed the doctor and instantly tensed up.

“It's all right Sammy,” Dean assured him “That's Doc Carl. He fixed you up pretty good.”

Sam looked down at himself, he was wearing only his underwear and his body was covered in gauze and bandages, he looked like an Egyptian mummy. “Oh, thanks. Where are my pants?”

“In the bin, they looked like they'd been attacked by a... well, by a vampire.”

“You got beat up real bad kid, but you're on the mend now. You were out for three days.” the doctor told him.

“Three... three days?” Dean nodded and Sam looked at the wall sadly, he couldn't move his head very far thanks to the gauze on his neck wounds.

“One think I can't heal is this though.” the doctor moved the covers back and lightly tapped the burn on his chest. “Do you know what it is?”

Both Dean and John replied no in unison and all eyes turned expectantly towards Sam, “I don't... I've never seen it before.” he looked at the weird 'Z' shaped symbol and shook his head in small movements. “Just let me get to my computer and I'll find it.”

“Stay where you are. I'll get it for you.” Dean replied.

“What happened to your head?” Sam asked noticing a jagged scar running across his brother's forehead.

“Nothing, I'm fine.” he said and left the room to find Sam's laptop, the Doctor Carl followed wanting to let Sam have some time with his dad.

John filled the seat that Dean had just vacated, “How're you doing Sam?”

He looked at his father, he wanted to blame this on him “Fine.” he said at last.

John twiddled his thumbs, “Right.” he got up to leave but sat down again, “I'm sorry. This was my fault.”

“No... it wasn't.” he said even though he did feel like it was his dad's fault for dragging him into this. “I should have checked the salt line.”

John smiled sadly and shook his head, the kid would always find a way to blame it on himself. “It's alright.” he stood up and headed towards the door, “Sorry Sammy.” he said and left. Sam relaxed into the pillows and took a few moments to steady his breathing. He rolled over onto his front ignoring the protests of his sore body and lay face down in the pillow, he never could get to sleep lying on his back.

The next day after a heated argument with his dad Sam had managed to persuade them to get back on the road. Dean had picked up their stuff from the motel and shoved it into the trunk of the Impala. Sam sat in the passenger seat with his head resting against the window. He just watched the road and the blurred scenery as they drove behind their dad.

“Dean.” he said after a while, “I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to hunt, I just want to settle down in one place, finish high school and go to college. No normal sixteen year old would ever have had to go through that. So why can't I just have a normal life?”

“It's what we do, we can't ever have a normal life. They'll keep killing people and it's our job to stop them. This would've happened even if you weren't a hunter. Everything knows that we're dad's weak spots.”

Sam sighed, “Yeah... you're probably right.”

Dean chuckled “Yes I am.”

“Shut up."

Dean laughed and gave Sam a lopsided grin. Sam's fingers absent mindedly traced the Zoroastrian 'Z' on his chest. Whatever it meant, it was nothing good.

“So any leads on that thing?” Dean asked breaking the silence, he couldn't get over the fact that Sam had seen Dean do that to him, even if it wasn't the real Dean.

Sam shook his head “Nothing. I'll just dig a bit deeper.” Dean could sense the hostility in his kid brother's voice. It sounded like Sam couldn't forget seeing it either.

“You know Dad's just going to keep dragging our asses around looking for another hunt, especially seeing as you don't have to go back to school for another couple of weeks.”

Sam sighed “I don't want to go on a hunt. I was unconscious for three days!”

“I know, but it's dad. We gotta do what he wants.” John's truck pulled into a motel car park and Dean parked the Impala next to it. All three of them got out of their cars and walked, or in Sam's case, limped towards the reception. There was a weedy looking guy sitting at his desk chair with his head buried in a Spiderman comic. Dean rung the bell a few times to get his attention.

“Whaddaya want?” the desk clerk said and eventually looked up from his book.

“Two rooms.” John said.

“One single and a king or three singles?”

“Three singles.” Dean said quickly.

“Right you are.” he fished out a couple of keys from under the desk. “They're just down the hall on the left. Five and Six.”

“Thanks.” Dean took the keys and sauntered down the hall. Once they were in they began salting the doors and windows. Sam just lay on the bed grumbling about teeth with his head planted in a pillow. Their father walked into their room once he had laid down the salt lines. “You okay Sammy?” he asked and gently placed a hand on his youngest son's shoulder, Sam flinched at the touch, “Sorry.” he realised he was touching one of the many bite marks.

“'S fine, me shleep” Sam gurgled through the pillow.

“He said sleep.” Dean clarified for his father.

“Right, yes.” John nodded sensing that Sam wanted to be left alone, “Dean, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yes sir.” he got up from the slightly unpleasantly green bed and followed his father to the door, he glanced back at Sam, unwilling to let the kid out of his sight for more than a second. He followed his father into his room, it was very much the same, same revolting green duvet cover and peeling beige walls. “Why do we always pick the best motels to hole up in?” he said with a detectable note of sarcasm.

“The symbol on Sam's chest.”

“What about it?”

“It's Zoroastrian.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” he flopped down onto a chair, exasperated.

“I need you to find out what it means, but don't tell Sam, tell me first.”

“Yes sir.”


	5. Chapter 5

 Sam woke up with a start, he was sweating profusely and biting into his pillow ferociously. He rolled onto his back with a small grunt of pain, he had been having a nightmare. Dean – or the shape shifter version – had been torturing him again, the white hot sensation of the poker being held against his bare skin had jolted him awake. Dean was sitting on his bed, hunched over and watching Sam carefully, his little brother had been crying out the whole night.

“What're you staring at?” Sam grumbled.

“You okay Sammy?” Dean asked, his hands clasped between his knees and a worried expression on his face.

“Fine.” he replied, “Dean I'm fine.” he repeated seeing the unconvinced look on Dean's face.

“You were crying out in your sleep.”

“Just a nightmare, I promise Dean I'm fine.” he sat up, “Shut up Dean.”

“I didn't say anything!” he held his hands up in a mock surrender.

“Jerk.” Sam said and shoved his face back into the pillow.

“Bitch.” Dean laughed and picked up his laptop, making sure Sam couldn't see the screen. He began searching for Zoroastrian symbols. He scrolled down clicking on links that led no where interesting.

“Whatcha looking at,” he thought for a second, this was his brother, chances were he was looking at porn “Actually I don't wanna know.”

Dean chuckled again and snuck a look at Sam's burn, it was still red and white but would probably scar.

“Stop staring dude, you're making me feel uncomfortable.”

Just at that moment John Winchester walked in, “The desk clerk is dead.” he was carrying a shotgun loaded with rocksalt and a pistol loaded with iron rounds. “Something must have followed us from the warehouse.”

“Yes sir.” Dean said and grabbed his silver knife and pistol, “Sammy get behind me.” he handed his baby brother a gun and helped him out of bed, Sam wobbled a bit but refused Dean's help. He wouldn't appear weak, plus he'd only slow his brother and father down. Dean and John left the room and Sam followed behind as quickly as he could. His entire body protested, the wounds still throbbed but he was determined to ignore it. Dean would call his a woos otherwise. He hobbled along behind them and stopped when he saw the clerk's dead body.

 

_Calum was sat at his desk, feet propped up on the desk, nose in another comic book. He was so engrossed in the story that he didn't notice the second presence in the room. The shadow of a humanoid creature with long sharp claws hung on the wall behind Calum's shadow. It stuck it's claws straight through the man's back. They pierced his lungs and heart. The creature removed it's claws and crept away from the paling body of the young man. His face was pale and thick, deep red, blood slowly covered the victim's white shirt. Soon the shirt became red and blood seeped onto the chair from which it fell with a steady drip. The comic book fell from his still fingertips and landed upside down on the floor. Blood trickled from his arm and onto the front cover. Drops of blood slowly began to seep into Captain America's face._

 

Dean stared at the body, it looked fresh. Too fresh for his liking, he liked it better when they were just a pile of rotting bones, that way he couldn't see the agony stretched across the victim's face when it finally bit the dust. John checked Calum's pulse. Nothing. No movement.

“Definitely dead. Poor guy.”

Dean looked around he could see nothing, no one. It was all too quiet. The EMF in his back pocket was also dead as Elvis. “Any ideas Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Nothing.” he replied. All of a sudden something wrapped around his neck and he was hoisted into the air. The lampshade fell to the floor with a clatter. John spun round, the sight of Sam kicking wildly as the lamp cord tightened around his neck froze him for a few seconds.

“Dean watch our backs!” he ordered and hastily pulled up a chair beneath Sam's feet, thanks to his long body Sam was able to put his feet on the top of the chair back. John stood on the chair and tried to cut the cord. Out of nowhere something shoved into him and sent him careering into the lobby vending machine. The thing batted Sam's chair away and left the kid hanging there and struggling for breath. All Sam could see of it was it's shadow. It swiped out with it's long claws.

“DEAN!” Sam yelled in warning as he saw the shadow swinging it's arm at Dean's back. The chord tightened around his throat and cut off his voice. Dean spun out of the way just in time to avoid a fatal blow to the heart. Gashes were open right down his upper arm and he yelled in pain.

“Sammy!” Dean called out, always with more concern for his brother's health than his own.

Sam clawed at the cord around his throat, “D...va...” he said weakly.

“What?” Dean tried to ignore the agonising pain in his arm.

“..ae..v” he tapped his chest where the burn mark was and motioned for Dean to cut it. The Daeva cut across Dean's cheek and sent him flying over the counter and into the dead man.

“Gross.” Dean grumbled, blood was trickling steadily down his face and onto his shirt. “What is this thing dad?!” Dean demanded.

John put two and two together, the symbol and the invisible monster, “It's a Daeva! Invisible!” Sam went limp and in a mad burst of fury he grabbed a flare from his jacket pocket and lit it up. The Daeva's shadow vanished in the intense light. Black smoke vanished off into the ventilation shafts and Sam's neck was released. He fell to the floor with a loud thump, Dean crawled over to Sam, cradling his injured arm.

“You okay Sammy?” Dean asked weakly. Sam groaned and gasped for air, his hands instantly jumped to his neck but the chord was gone. John hid his limp as he walked over to his sons. “What was that thing?” Dean asked, leaning against the front desk.

“A Daeva. They're invisible, you can only ever see their shadow. The flare should have killed it but we have to be sure.” he took out his silver lighter and flicked it on, the small flame burst into life. He moved Sam's shirt up his chest. Sam tried to complain but he was too exhausted.

“What are you –” Dean started to ask but shut up receiving a 'look' from his father.

John held the flame closer to Sam's chest, “I'm so sorry kiddo.” he touched the flame to the Zoroastrian burn and Sam's body jerked away, he held the flame there for a couple of seconds then closed the lid of the lighter with a flick.

“Argh, what was that for?!”

“I wasn't going to just cut your skin off to get rid of that mark!”

Sam looked daggers at John and rolled onto his side, his back facing his father and his head resting on Dean's knee.

“I'll pack up, we've got to leave.” John said and left down the hallway.

Dean reached up over the blood spattered mahogany counter and swiped a was of cash from the open till. “What?” he asked receiving a dirty look from his brother, “It's fair game.” Sam rolled his eyes, “Come on sasquatch.” he said and picked up his baby brother in the same way he did when Sam was still only a little kid. Sam protested and squirmed and Dean whacked him softly on the back of the head.

“Jerk.” Sam grumbled and let his brother carry him into the car.

“Bitch.” Dean replied with a smile and closed the door.


	6. Chapter 6

 Sam woke up with his face squashed up against the glass of the Impala. The engine had stopped rumbling an hour or so ago and Dean was sat on the bonnet with their father, they were both taking long sips from their cold beers as they looked up at the dark night sky. Stars shone down on them like diamonds on coal. Sam unfolded himself from the seat and clambered out into the cool night air.

“Hey kiddo.” Dean said, “You alive yet?”

“Think so.” Sam replied with a lopsided smirk. He still hurt all over but he was a Winchester, he wasn't dead or dying, he could deal with it.

“Hey son.” John said and tried to smile kindly at his younger son. Sam nodded to his father and picked up a beer from the cool box ignoring the stare from both elder Winchesters.

“What?” he asked “I deserve it.”

“Drink up then Sammy.” Dean said with a pearly white smirk and a shrug. Together the three of them sat in the empty field and stared up at the stars, blissfully unaware of the vengeful being watching their every move.

When the night began to turn into day John decided that was far too early to go looking for a motel room. He told Dean to take a nap, he'd watch out for anything unwanted. Sam was already stretched out across the back seats leaving Dean with the uncomfortable position of sleeping in the front with his long legs stuck under the steering wheel. He nodded to his father who sat in the pick up wide awake, John nodded back and motioned for Dean to go the hell to sleep. Dean smirked to himself and settled into the comfiest position he could find while still being able to defend himself at a moments notice. After what had happened to Sam over the course of he week, he deemed it necessary to take more precautions. Sam moaned in his sleep and shifted around, he was reliving his time in the warehouse, the demon's laugh and ferocious grin flashed in and out of his head. He shifted about more until he was half on the seat and half wedged between the back seats and the front passenger seat. He woke with a start.

“Ugh, dammit.” he grumbled and pulled himself out of the twisted position. Small rays of sunlight washed in through the windows, the glowing orb was high enough above the horizon for Sam to decide that it was about 6 am. They should probably find somewhere to hole up for the next few days. Dean woke up as Sam stirred.

“How you doin' princess?”

“Cramped.” came the reply, “Where's dad?”

“In the pick up.” Dean replied groggily

“No he's not.”

“What? No he can't be gone.” Dean picked himself up and looked out the window. They both climbed out and wandered over to the spot where the truck had been. A folded piece of paper lay in the centre on the patch of flattened down grass.

 

_Sam and Dean_

 

_I know you're both going to be pissed at me but you understand that I had to take off, we're weaker together. Don't come looking for me, not yet. I'll call soon. In the meantime get yourselves another hunt. There's a job for you a few towns west of where you are. Take care of your brother Dean, don't let anything happen to him. Something's gunning for him, maybe for all of us but that demon was more interested in Sammy than you. Don't forget. We've still got to get him back to school in one piece in two weeks time. I'll come back when Sam's back at school, but I won't stick around for long._

 

_-JW_

 

Dean scowled as he read it. He subconsciously crumpled it into a tight ball.

“Whoa dude what it is? What did it say?” Sam asked standing next to his brother. At the age of sixteen he was the same height as him and still growing, he would tease Dean about his little brother being bigger than him in years to come.

“Dad's gone, he's taken off. Safer that way.” he omitted the part about Sam being hunted down. He kicked himself for not hearing the engine of the truck and the screech of the tyres as his dad drove off.

“We've got to find him then.”

“No Sammy, he told us not to.”

“And you're going to listen?”

“Yes! Because that's what we do alright?!”

Sam opened his mouth to argue but shut it, there was no point in arguing with Dean. He scowled and sat back down in the Impala, Dean joined him a few minutes later. They drove on in silence in search of a motel. How could John just leave them like that? He might not be able to protect Sam all by himself, and the kid was a magnet for trouble. He sighed audibly and kept driving until they found a motel that didn't look like it had been chewed up and spat out by a dinosaur. They were all old and crumbling, it didn't look like they got much business, especially not now that they looked like reptile chow. Dean pulled into the car-park of a slightly more respectable looking Bed and Breakfast. He wasn't keen on staying in a motel made out of nothing. Together he and Sam got out of the car, shouldered their bags, and strode into the front room. An elderly lady sat in an armchair with a little girl on her knees, the girl had strawberry blonde that was done up in bunches. He grandmother was happily telling her tales of first boyfriends and prom night. Sam smiled inwardly, the little girl would hopefully grow up to lead a normal life, not one like theirs.

A plump middle aged woman walked down the carpeted stairs to greet them, “Hello there. You fellas in need of a room?”

“Yup,” Dean replied, “Two singles if you've got 'em.”

“Follow me boys.” she said sweetly and led them up two flights of stairs. “Here we are. Room 10. Now breakfast is in the dining room from 7 to 10. There are plenty of nice restaurants where you boys can have dinner.” She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, “Need anything just give me a shout.” she said and tottered off back down the stairs.

Dean walked in first, it was one of his many habits, if something was in the room it would get him first rather than Sam. He looked around at the pink quilted bedsheets. “This is...”

“Pink...” Sam finished for him “Really pink.” the walls were covered in floral wallpaper and the carpet was a bright shade of pink.

“We'd better not stay here long.” Dean shuddered and threw his bag onto the bed nearest the door, another one of his many habits.

Sam frowned and dumped his stuff on the second bed. He pulled out his laptop “Why would a demon a shape shifter and a vampire work together?”

Dean shrugged, “They're never normally that friendly.” he said “Maybe because they're all gunning for you Sammy.” he didn't say the last part out loud.

“No...” Sam mumbled and went back to his laptop as Dean got up and laid down the salt lines by the window and the door.

“Something dad said in his note, he's given us a job in this town. Don't know what is is though, but something is going on here. Hell we both noticed it the second we drove in. Those motels?”

“No.” Sam said firmly, “Dude no. I don't want another job yet.” he absent mindedly traced the burn scars on his chest. “You want research done do it yourself.” he shut his laptop and set it down on the floor before burying his head in the revoltingly pink pillow. His stomach grumbled impatiently, it wasn't even 12 yet.

“I'll get us some lunch. Your stomach sounds like a bear.” Dean said and got up, “Don't you dare get jumped while I'm gone.” he warned and waggled his finger at the floppy form of his weedy little brother. He chuckled to himself as he galloped down the stairs, the grandmother and the girl were gone from the living room. Dean thought nothing of it as he strode leisurely down the main road. It wasn't much of a town, but it had a takeaway, and that was enough for Dean. At least for today. He bought a couple of burgers and strolled back to the B&B, why hadn't their dad at least told him what they were meant to be hunting. He wasn't all that happy with leaving Sam back there on his own, but the kid was being a stubborn mule and Dean was hungry anyway. He kept his eyes peeled for any signs of out of the ordinary weirdness. Nothing so far, it was quiet. Maybe a little too quiet. He walked back into the B&B, finishing up his burger. His breath fogged up in the suddenly cold air. “Aw crap.” he pulled out his gun and spun around. The air was sucked out of his lungs as a spirit passed through him. “SAM!” he managed to yell before everything was plunged into darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam ran down the stairs taking them two at a time, he held his silver pistol in one hand and a silver knife in the other. A burger lay among a pile of napkins on the wooden floor but there was no sign of Dean anywhere. “Dean?” he had been sure he heard his brother's voice only moments ago. He took light, quick, steps through the small hallway that doubled as a lobby and into the front room. The old grandmother's slippers lay discarded neatly on the floor by the armchair she had been sitting on. Sam tensed up as he walked past the little blonde girl's hair clips embedded in a cushion. Something felt off, the air didn't even feel right. Dean had the EMF meter so there was no way Sam could know what awaited him when he found his brother, because he was going to find him, he was.

 

Dean woke with a start. He squinted his eyes and tried to make out the dull shapes of empty barrels and casks which lay basking in a dull candle light. The plump lady perched on the edge of a crate like a bird poised for take off. Beside her stood and insanely tall man whose eyes glowed bright green. The man took a few steps forwards, his feet were pointing the wrong way.

“Did Doctor Frankenstein screw your feet on the wrong way or something?” Dean's mockery earned him a punch in the face. The man's fist had missed his nose but he would soon be sporting a bruise on his jaw.

“Just like you told me. The tall one and the old one. I found them for you!” the woman chirped, “Will you show me the ways of magic?”

The tall man smirked and gave Dean a devilish grin. He picked up a foot long golden feather, each vane had been sharpened to a fine point. He muttered an incantation and the feather hovered in the air, glistening in the glow of the small flames. It fluttered delicately around the woman and she watched on in delight like a child at Christmas. The man's eyes glowed even brighter and a burst of maniac laughter escaped his lungs. The feather danced across the woman's skin, tearing it to shreds, Dean watched on in horror. Was this what awaited him? The woman's shrieks echoed throughout the dank basement of the B&B. The feather dove through her chest and impaled itself in an empty beer cask. Her limp, bloody form fell to the floor with a thud. Her spirit, confused and scared, joined those of the man's previous victims. She stood by the grandmother and the granddaughter, their clothes still red with blood.

“You can't say I didn't keep my promise. I showed her magic.” the man said with a grin.

Dean's hands were bound by rope but he slowly sawed away with the small knife both him and Sam always kept up their sleeves. He was halfway through the thick rope but still had a way to go.

“Well she was sort of useful. She told me you were here. You see, my boss wasn't very happy about the carnage you lot left at the warehouse. Unpleasant business, so I got called upon to bring you in. It's only little Sammy that the boss wants. But the rest of us, well we didn't think the big bad Winchesters would let us off scot-free. Looks like you all have to die.” he sneered.

“What the hell do you want with Sam?!” Dean demanded, his father had warned him about this, _Something's gunning for him._

“Why should I care? I just know I'm getting handsomely rewarded for my efforts.”

“You stay the hell away from him!” Dean sawed through the rest of the rope and pulled his hands free. He leapt at the man, who stood a good two feet taller than him, but was thrown roughly into the wall. He slid to the floor and was swept off into blissful unconsciousness. The man opened the old trapdoor, that led up into the house, he lifted it just a fraction.

“Sam! Sammy!” he called in an almost perfect imitation of the unconscious man's voice.

Sam heard his brother's voice coming from the kitchen. “Dean?”

“Down here Sammy.”

“Hold on, I'm coming.” he said sensing something was wrong. There wasn't the usual twinge of arrogance in his brother's voice, nor was there a twinge of fear. Could something be imitating him? He walked warily into the kitchen. He had to find Dean. Light footsteps echoed in the empty room as he walked slowly forwards. One tile looked out-of-place, like it had been squashed or something. He crouched down to take a closer look at it, the tile wasn't squashed or squint; it was raised. He checked over his shoulder and raised the tile bit by bit until he could see steps leading down into a basement. He slid the tile across the floor and fished out a pocket torch. Light spilled out onto the stone steps but still he couldn't see the bottom. He stole silently down the steps until he could see the faint glow of candles. He was about to take a step forwards, off the steps and into the cellar, but stopped in his tracks; a huge figure towered over the limp form of his brother and the bloody corpse of the plump woman lay in tatters on the floor. His breath caught in his throat.

“I knew you'd come little Winchester. You boys certainly have a soft spot for each other.” he ran a long finger through the pool of the plump lady's blood and licked it up hungrily with a maniac grin. “Fattening but still tasty.”

Sam trained the gun on him, “What are you?”

“Sammy Sammy Sammy.” the thing said still imitating Dean's voice, “Now that would be telling.”

“You get away from him.” he hid the tremor in his voice, but not well enough.

“Scared are we Sammy? No matter. You've got two choices. You haul your brother into the back of that van parked outside then hop in yourself. Or I kill Dean right now, tie you up and throw you in the back of that van.” it picked Dean up with ease.

“Please just let him go.” Sam kept the gun trained on the eight foot tall man.

“Hmm how about no.” it smirked “Now leave your gun where it is and throw the knife into that barrel there.” Sam hesitated but did as he said, “Good. Now walk up the stairs,” it pulled the knife out of the wood, “And get in the van.”

Sam walked backwards up the stairs keeping a constant eye on Dean. He was going to get a lecture about this once Dean woke up. He climbed into the kitchen and Dean was hurled onto him, knocking the air out of his lungs. “Oof.” he gasped and pushed him off.

“Take him out to the van.” the man pointed Sam's own gun at him.

“I'm sorry Dean.” Sam whispered as he dragged his heavy brother out into the empty street. The van doors sprung open and Sam stopped before getting inside. The man growled and grabbed Dean's legs, throwing him in.

“Get in.” Sam stepped in but his arms were grabbed, “Don't move.” it said and secured his hands behind his back with the help of a few plastic ties. He shoved Sam over and into his brother who was just beginning to stir. He suddenly shimmered and transformed into a beautiful woman in a short red dress. “See if you can guess what I am. And I'll give you a clue, I'm no shape shifter.” she shut the doors and locked them before climbing into the cab and starting up the engine.

Dean awoke groggily, “Shit, Sam, where am I?” he looked around at the blank walls lined with plywood. His hand jumped to the back of his head “That was sore.” he remembered being thrown into the wall the huge man and seeing the dead woman on the floor. He sat up ignoring the protest from his head. “Sammy where are we?”

“In the back of a van.” he was on his knees leaning against the wall with his hands tied firmly behind his back. “It threatened you. I didn't have any choice.” he tried to explain seeing the outraged look on his brother's face.

“Dammit Sam, you should have left me where I was and gotten the hell out of there. I saw what it did to that lady, pretty much tickled her to death.”

“Tickled her to death?”

“Feather made of spikes.” he explained, “Anyway. That thing wants you. Not me. The only reason I'm still alive is so that you'll do what it says, am I right?”

Sam looked down “I couldn't leave you there.”

Dean sighed, “You got any weapons? I'm clean.” he sighed once more when Sam shook his head.

“It took them off me.” he explained.

“Well you got any idea what 'it' is genius?”

“Tickled to death... tall man... shape shifting... eating humans... shit.”

“What? What is it?”

“It's a Leshy. I don't know too much about them but I stumbled across some lore about them a couple of years ago. They're woodland spirits. Not ghost spirits, more like gods.”

“How do we gank it.”

“I...” Sam shook his head, he couldn't remember.

“Silver? Copper? Iron?”

“Iron.” he recalled a passage about iron. “Chop it's head of with an iron axe!”

“Great.” Dean said sarcastically, “Where the hell are we gonna find one of those while we're stuck in a van?”

Sam shrugged and slumped against the wall listening to the engine. They had taken a left then driven for 4 minutes and 38 seconds and taken a right, after 3 minutes they crossed a bridge. Sam kept counting and listening out for anything that might give away where they were. “You got your phone?”

Dean checked his pockets and shook his head. “You?”

Sam nodded “Can't reach though.”

Dean groaned, “Where is it?”

“Front left pocket.” Dean groaned and reached into his brother's pocket, pulling out his phone, “Call Uncle Bobby.”

“Why not dad?”

“Because if the Leshy has all three of us then things will not go well for us.”

“Suppose so. But he doesn't pick up I'm calling dad.” he dialled Bobby's number and urged to old bastard to pick up. It rang four times until Bobby picked up.

“Dean?”

“Bobby thank god.” Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “We need help.”

“Why aren't you idjits callin' your old man?”

“Because Sam said something stupid about it being dangerous.”

“Well hand me over to Sam.”

Dean reluctantly held the phone by Sam's ear “Listen Bobby we really do need help and it'll only get worse if we call dad.” Sam recounted to the older hunter exactly where they had been and how many seconds it was between each turn of the car. “If we stop we'll try to let you know.”

“Dammit son, I'm about two hours away. There's no way I'll be able to find the van.”

“Bobby please!” Sam pleaded.

Bobby could sense the urgency in the young Winchester's voice, “I'll be there in an hour even if it means breaking every speed limit known to man.”

“Thanks Bobby. And remember it's a Leshy.” Sam let out a sigh of relief. They weren't entirely alone.

The van screeched to a halt sending both boys flying forwards. They heard the Leshy climb out of the cab and unlock the back doors. “Tut tut tut boys.” it said still looking like a supermodel, “I'm going to have to confiscate this.” the mobile phone flew out of Dean's hand and she crushed it in her powerful grip. She dropped the fragments to the ground and smirked. She dragged Dean over to her and bound his wrists with the same plastic bonds. He kicked her in the chest but stopped the second she had Sam's gun trained on his little brother. “Sit up, both of you. Back to back. Now!” they reluctantly did as they were told. Dean wanted nothing more than to kill this bitch for even daring to threaten Sam. A final plastic tie joined the binds on the boys wrists together. She grinned and locked them back in the van. It grumbled it's way down a narrow country lane and ground to a stop outside an abandoned cotton mill.

“You okay Sammy?” Dean asked growing more concerned for his brother.

“Fine Dean.” he said in a flat voice.

The van doors opened for the final time and the beautiful woman shimmered and became the 8 foot beady eyed man once more. He grabbed both boys by the ankles and carried them in-front of him as though they were contagious. They boys were thrown through the open door and landed on the dust covered floor. Dean rolled onto his side so he would stop crushing Sam below him. A pair of feet clad in impossibly shiny shoes appeared before them. The boys looked up awkwardly in unison. Dean's muscles tensed and his breathing became heavier and angrier.

“You.”


	8. Chapter 8

 “Yes. Me.” the man with the shiny shoes replied.

“Who?” Sam asked confused.

“I am Azriel. I've met your brother once before. You were only five years old, Sam. Dean stopped me doing away with you back then though; it was very embarrassing. Pity you're both a bit tied up now though isn't it? This wouldn't be nearly as fun as it could be.”

The ties snapped and the boys were flung into opposite walls and held there by an invisible force. The Leshy hung back in the corner with a wicked grin on its face. The boys struggled but to no avail. They couldn't get free.

“I've done away with loads like you Sam. But you're special, you're my brother's favourite. Dean, well Dean is just going to die.” Azriel said with a shrug. “Gangly here tells me you boys tried to make a call on the trip over. I hope it was your daddy, it'd be great to get rid of the Winchesters in one go.” Sam and Dean said nothing; they just glared at him. “Well aren't you the chatty ones.” he strode over to Sam, “Tell me Sammy. Who did you phone and do they know where to find you?” Sam said nothing, “Come on Sam, sure you don't want to talk?” he pulled out a knife and ran it down the length of Sam's shirt exposing his chest. Azriel looked at the burn and dragged his knife through it. Sam's body jerked in pain. “I know torturing you wont help me in the slightest. You wont tell me anything. But I wonder how long you can stand to see big brother holding his guts in with his bare hands.”

“No!” Sam yelled.

“Sam it's fine. You'll be alright.” Dean tried to reassure his little brother even though he didn't truly believe his own words.

Azriel moved towards the older Winchester, he face twisted in a loathsome grin, his sandy hair crested his forehead in waves. He dragged the glimmering sliver knife across Dean's chest opening a long shallow ravine of thick red blood.

“Son of a...” Dean groaned and tried to knee the bastard in the face but his legs were forced back against the wall with even more force than before.

“Look Az... Azriel.” Sam tried to catch the demon's attention whilst trying to hide the quiver in his voice, “Please stop. Let him go.”

“Well I would. But then you'd never talk to me. So I won't.” he flashed his pearly white teeth in a menacing smile.

Dean groaned in pain once more as the razor sharp blade pierced through his skin. Blood flowed from his forearm, seeping through and into his shirt. His jaw was clenched shut, he wouldn't give this bastard the satisfaction. In a sudden burst of anger Sam managed to somehow escape from the demon's grasp and the rugby tackled the sucker through a weak point in the wooden wall, that had been steadily munched away at by woodworm. The two tall men tumbled head first into the old wooden waterwheel. Dean slid down the wall and landed on the floor, finally able to move his limbs. The Leshy had run out after Sam and his, her, it's, whatever, master.

 

***

 

Bobby floored the accelerator as he sped down the empty country lanes. He needed to be as fast as he could while still avoiding speed cameras and cops. Rickety old country lanes seemed to be the best way to go about it for the time being. He couldn't understand why those idjits hadn't just called their old man. Sure, he'd do anything for those two, but if he was being dragged away from a case just because Sam and John had had another argument and Sam didn't want to crawl back to his father grovelling... well Bobby would have words with him about that.

The rusty Volvo ground to a halt outside the Bed and Breakfast. Bobby took out his gun and a torch. His heart told him to get on the road, find the boys! But his common sense told him to scope the place out first. He crept in through the open door and found the boy's fake signatures in the log book after taking a long frown at the abandoned burgers on the floor. Room 10. He edged his way round corners and up the stairs, always keeping the barrel of the gun pointing ahead in case anything did decide to jump out and shout “Boo”. The door to their room stood ajar but the salt line hadn't been broken. “Sam? Dean?” he called out knowing they weren't there. But saying their names reassured him somehow. Sam's laptop sat open on the desk, it looked like he had been using it to figure out why vampires would fraternize with demons, he wouldn't find any answers online no matter how hard he looked. The long thin crack from the earlier attack remained on the screen but didn't disrupt the display too much. He picked up a couple of guns from Dean's weapons bag and headed back down stairs again, this time he headed into the living room; sensing nothing off about it he moved into the kitchen. The tile lay abandoned on the floor, shoved into a random corner under the table. This didn't seem good. Secret cellars are never good. Bobby flicked the switch on his flashlight and shone the beam down into the dark gaping hole in the middle of the floor. A set of steps ran down so far that he couldn't see the bottom in this light. He took a deep breath and took the first step down the stairs to the cellar. Fresh blood smeared on the steps glistened in the torchlight. He took a few more steps until he eventually reached the bottom. So far nothing had come out to try and kill him. This was getting ridiculous, a few more spots of blood on the steps and a basement filled with empty barrels with candles flickering in a gentle breeze. Dean's gun lay discarded on the floor by the mutilated body of the plump pink lady. Bobby frowned as he peered at the body, that must have been an unpleasant way to go. He would come back once the boys had been recovered and alert the local authorities, even if they were all pricks who kept trying to arrest them for doing their damn job.

“Screw this. I'm calling John.” he muttered angrily to himself and pulled out his mobile, that man should never have left his kids alone. Not for one minute.

“Bobby?” John's confused voice came through the tinny speaker.

“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch.” Bobby spat out, “You left them alone? Why?”

“Has something happened?”

“Your boys are gone.”

“Gone?”

Bobby could clearly detect the mixture of worry and anger in his old friend's voice. “I don't know much. They called me. Get yourself over here and I'll fill you in on the rest. Oh and pick up an iron axe on the way.” Bobby quickly recited his location and hung up the phone. Thank god John was only half an hour away. He hated to make those boys wait any longer than they deserved; and they didn't deserve to wait at all.

The next half hour was the longest half hour of his life.

 

***

 

“Die. Ugly. Bastard.” Sam growled, punching Azriel in the face each time he took a breath. Azriel merely grinned.

“I see why my brother likes you. You've got a fighting spirit I'll grant you that.” Azriel grinned and flung Sam off him and into the ice cold river.

Sam, caught off guard by the things Azriel had said, sat up in the frigid river. No bones were broken but he was pretty sure he had sprained his knee. The throbbing pain shot through his leg as he tried to stand up.

“I was going to wait for you to tell me where daddy was. But you're more trouble than you're worth.” Azriel strode confidently out into the water, unaffected by the Arctic temperature. The cool water splashed all over his pinstriped trousers and splattered his blazer. He stood directly in-front of Sam who shrank back in fear. The water made him numb to the bone. The Leshy crept forwards, ignoring Dean, towards Sam and Azriel. The blonde man in the pinstripe suit towered over the scrawny sixteen year old kid who lay shivering in the water. Azriel grinned and grabbed Sam's mass of tousled hair, “Time to die Sammy.” he pulled Sam forwards. The young Winchester had no strength left to fight back and could hardly do more than struggle feebly as his head was forced under the water. Sam thrashed about as best he could but to no avail. As he began to lose all hope; as he began to wonder if it would be better just to open his mouth and let all the water in; Azriel was thrown forwards into the water by none other than Sam's big brother Dean.


	9. Chapter 9

Bobby and John sped down the road as Bobby filled John in on what he knew, “But I've got the feeling there's something else there too. The boys can handle _one_ monster.” he spoke his thoughts aloud.

John merely grunted in response. He felt like such an idiot, believing that the boys would be safer on their own. Yes, they were weaker together thanks to that irreplaceable family bond, but nothing made a Winchester more determined to fight than the life of a loved one being in danger. John sighed, he was kicking himself. How, why... why did he assume that after rescuing Sam everything would be okay; that it was simply a small kerfuffle with a demon.

“John this isn't your fault.” Bobby repeated over and over throughout the course of the journey but each time he said it John would reply with a comment full of self loathing and hatred for the thing that took his sons. The bastard would pay. . .

 

***

 

Dean and Azriel tumbled over the smooth rocks, slipping and sliding about as the force of the water threatened to drag them downstream. Both men growling and snarling, swinging punches and failing to hit anything. Sam groaned as he choked up water. His leg was killing him and the freezing cold water wasn't helping at all. He wanted more than anything to help Dean but he knew that in this state he would just cause chaos and end up making it even harder for Dean to gank Azriel. He wished Bobby would hurry the hell up. He grimaced, pain shot through his body as he weakly dragged himself up the opposite, mud covered, bank. Dean, upon seeing his brother looking as helpless as a drowned kitten, lost focus for a split second. It was only a second but it was enough time for Azriel to slip out from under Dean and send him flying across the water and back into the old mill. Suddenly the Leshy snapped back into reality having been entranced by the fight; it ploughed through the water towards the spot where Sam lay. He reached out a gnarled hand towards the unmoving form of the younger Winchester and scooped him up, flinging him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

Dean flew through the air, smashing through board after board of rotten wood. He bounced over something hard and metal and finally flopped to the ground with a thump.

“Dean!” he heard his name being screamed over and over by, no... it couldn't be, his father?

“Dad?” he asked groaning, everywhere hurt. Sam, where was he? “Sam?” Dean called out.

“Dean it's me.” his father was now by his side, the door of the Impala hanging open and swinging on its hinges. “You alright son?”

Dean nodded, “Find Sam.” he moaned and rolled onto his side. Bobby crouched down and put a hand on Dean's shoulder.

“Go John, I got him.” he pulled Dean into an upright position leaning against the side door of the Impala.

John nodded and ran through the wreckage of the mill, leaping over the rubble towards the river. The Leshy stood tall with Azriel beside it. It dug its sharp nails into Sam's torso causing blood to seep into his sopping wet grey shirt. Sam's head hung limply, his floppy hair, dripping with blood and water, hung like a curtain – covering half his face. John wanted to yell, every fatherly instinct in him told him to go, run to his son. But as a hunter he knew better, to do so would only endanger Sam more. His grip tightened on the wooden shaft of the iron axe. He was going to kill those sons of bitches even if it was the last thing he did. He watched silently as Azriel slid out a knife from the inside pocket of his blazer and brought it towards Sam's neck. And in that moment something snapped inside him. The hunter inside him had made him wait to long. So fuck the usual procedure, fuck sacrificing one life to save a thousand, fuck catching the monster unawares. His son was going to die unless he moved now. He charged like a wild boar, nothing mattered any more except the wellbeing of his youngest son. Axe in hand he ran like a flash of lightning, swinging the axe over his shoulder and right through the neck of the Leshy before it even knew what hit it. Its shocked expression was left permanently glued to its face as its head tumbled into the cold water and its body flopped backwards into the icy spray. Azriel snarled and threw an arm around Sam's neck, pulling him into a headlock.

“Come any closer and you what I'll do.” he warned, his elegant composure was gone and had been replaced by a desperate look. His hair was messed up and the right side of his face was spattered with the Leshy's blood.

Azriel abruptly fell to the ground and Bobby swung for the second time and severed the last of the skin holding his neck on. John watched with a gaping mouth then came back to his senses and hauled Sam up and out of the mud.

“That wont keep him down for long. Dean's waiting in the car.”

Together Bobby and John carried a limp Sam across the water and back to the Impala. Sam mumbled a few unintelligible sentences and fell into the blissful grasp of unconsciousness.

Black smoke erupted from the decapitated head and vanished off into the distance. The two men turned to watch it go.

“And stay gone.” John muttered.

“SAM!” Dean yelled sitting up in back seat with a grimace, “Sammy!”

“Relax, he's just unconscious. He woke up a minute or so ago.” Bobby reassured the panicked twenty year old. Dean's posture relaxed a little but his muscles were still fairly tense.


	10. Epilogue

Dean sat by his brother, slowly running his hands through Sam's hair. The young boy lay in the backseat of the Impala with his head resting on his big brother's knee.

“D...n?” he moaned, “Dean?”

“Shh shh shh, it's okay Sammy I'm here.”

Sam slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Dean, he normally chose to ignore emotions but today his face was flooded with relief and sadness.

“I'm alright.” he tried to sit up but pain shot through his body and he instantly lay back down again.

“You feeling okay there Sam?” John asked, glancing back at his sons in the rear view mirror.

“I'm fine.” he grumbled in reply and turned his head so he could almost see out of the windscreen, he spotted a familiar cap on a familiar head which leant against the window. “That you uncle Bobby?”

“Hey Sam.” he turned round with a grin on his face and wiped the sleep out of his old eyes, “Good to see you awake, gave us quite the scare kiddo.”

“Sorry.” Sam said a little sheepishly.

“You ain't got nothing to apologise for.” Bobby said in his comfortingly gruff voice.

The Impala's engine purred as it rolled down the lonely road, Sam drifted into a comfortable sleep knowing that Dean was, and would always be, watching over him.

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimer applies. Only my characters belong to me.  
> Please let me know if it was shit or if it was great, I'd love to hear from you!  
> Until the next time!


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